


Longing

by Chris_Evans_Indian_Fanfic



Category: chris evans actor - Fandom, chris evans rpf - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-17
Updated: 2020-08-17
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:47:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25951648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chris_Evans_Indian_Fanfic/pseuds/Chris_Evans_Indian_Fanfic
Summary: Description: Chris Evans becomes obsessed with you when he realises he can’t have you. Eager to be with you in any form, he starts writing fanfiction, where both of you are madly in love with each other. What happens when his imagination starts to merge with his reality in his subconsciousness?Warnings: This entire series will contain smut, bad language and angst. ONLY PROCEED IF YOU ARE 18+A/N: I do not know Chris Evans personally. This fic is a work of imagination and should only be used as such. It doesn’t comment on Chris or anybody else personally. It is also not meant to destroy his reputation or paint him in a bad light. I admire the guy and he really seems like a genuinely nice person.2: I did search quite a lot on the internet and didn’t come across a fic like this. Which makes me nervous and also kind of excited that I get to do something unique? Please please give me your criticism and feedback on this! Would love to hear your thoughts.3: I have used a few big words throughout the series because this fic is from Chris’ POV and we all know that he’s a bit of a wordsmith. I had never even heard these words before in my life. So please let me know if I have used them in an incorrect manner.
Relationships: Chris Evans (Actor) & Reader, Chris Evans (Actor) & You, Chris Evans (Actor)/Reader, Chris Evans (Actor)/You, Chris Evans x Y/N
Comments: 4
Kudos: 16





	Longing

The best thing about shooting Defending Jacob? Chris got to stay in his house in Boston. The worst part about working on the set? He was currently stuck in a room engulfed in hot, angry flames of fire. The fire had abruptly started due to a short circuit and spread across the set in the blink of an eye. Coughing, Chris doubled down on the floor, his breathing becoming more laboured with each second. 

The smoke stung his eyes as he looked around for a fire extinguisher. He tried calling for help, but only small grunts managed to escape his lips. Just as he was on the verge of losing consciousness, he heard a voice. _Your_ voice.

“Is anyone here?” you called out, your voice faint in his ears. “Hello?" 

Chris tried to shout again, but only sank further towards the floor.

Luckily, you opened the door of his room and found his almost crumpled body on the ground. Using the fire extinguisher, you managed to douse as many flames as you could, while also covering Chris with a thick blanket. As the room was still filled with smoke, you pressed a wet towel on his face, asking him to breathe through his nose. 

Slowly, you managed to drag him out of the room and into the corridor, the fire reduced to embers in most places thanks to your fire extinguisher. Chris being a heavy man, you tried your best to support his weight as much as you could, your body almost stooping to form a right angle.

Just as you thought you might be in the clear, you heard a crack from above. Looking up, you realised that the ceiling was about to cave in and so, on impulse, you pushed Chris out of the way, as portions of the false ceiling fell on you, knocking you unconscious. 

Chris, in his state, vaguely realised what happened, before he lost his balance and fell to the ground a few feet away from you, his left arm stretched towards your limp body, as if reaching out.

Sirens of the firetruck and the ambulance filled the heavy air. A deep groan escaped his lips as he attempted to crawl towards you, a failed effort. _Where did it all go so wrong?_ he thought. _I was supposed to be the one to save you angel! You should be falling in love with me!! And break-up with your good for nothing fiancé!_

Overwhelmed with emotions, Chris started drifting off to sleep, your name leaving his lips in the form of a desperate whisper.

## 🔥

**8 MONTHS AGO**

Chris met you for the first time at the table read for Defending Jacob. You didn’t strike him as anyone special. Being the Junior Assistant Scriptwriter for the series, you were just in the room as a formality. It was your job to jot down the minutes of the meeting, and have the parts of the script marked which were supposed to be changed slightly. 

You managed to stay invisible for more such meetings. An introvert by nature, you kept to yourself even when the shooting started. 

It was in the Week 4 of the shooting when Chris actually started to notice you. He realised you were always absent from his house parties, never stayed around on the set for after-work shenanigans and, you never hung out with any of your crew-mates for a drink.

What really drove his attention towards you were your random acts of kindness. He once saw you feeding a homeless man in the alley behind the set. Unknown to you, it was where Chris often hid from his cast and crew to smoke. 

Then there was the bit with setting up of a mobile blood donation camp on the set, which was completely your idea. He had also seen you distribute fliers for animal adoption centres and NGOs who fought for climate preservation.

You always made sure everyone on the set ate before you did, and the ones who couldn’t due to work, you were sure to help them and share their load so they could have lunch.

But one particular incident made him see that you were no ordinary woman. 

It was a particularly tough day on the set. They were shooting the 35-second sex scene between him and Michelle. While these scenes looked easy on the screen, they always made Chris feel uneasy about himself. "What if my body is not upto the mark?” , “I don’t want to hurt Michelle in any way” , “God I hope I don’t touch her inappropriately by mistake” and more such troubling thoughts clawed at his mind. After the scene finally ended, he felt the lustful eyes of the crew feasting on him, admiring his body on display. 

He hurried towards his van, avoiding to look at anyone, until his eyes met yours for a total of 5 seconds. He expected to see the same smirk to be reflected in your eyes as everyone else’s. Instead, he saw a completely different emotion. He saw sadness, sympathy, and most importantly, recognition of his discomfort etched on your face.

After that, Chris started to keep a close eye on you. You always wore comfortable clothes, with loads of pockets. Yet somehow, they always fit you well. He also noticed that you always got your own lunch, refusing to eat the food available on the set. 

A few days after filming the sex scene, he decided to try to speak with you. Palms sweaty, he headed towards you and gently said your name. 

“Hi,” he said, and stopped. 

“Hello Mr Evans,” you greeted him back, a little surprised that he knew your name. 

He continued to look at you, bright cerulean eyes bearing into yours, apparently lost. You blinked twice, unfazed, and a little uncomfortable, “Can I help you sir?”

Chris shook his head slightly. He was so used to women fawning all over him, that your utter lack of excitement on seeing him deterred him a bit. 

He cleared his throat, a little flustered, *Ahem yeah… I wanted to ask… something… karaoke!“ he managed to mumble, "It’s karaoke night at my house. Tomorrow. Will you come? At night?”

“Umm… No Mr Evans. I am sorry I will not be able to make it,” you politely declined while taking a small step back.

“Oh. Uhh… well we can have it any other night if you want,” he cleared his throat again, sweat starting to gather on his forehead as he noticed your movement, “You never visit any of my house-parties.”

You smiled a bit, “I like to go home early. I want to spend as much time as I can with my fiancé and my cat.”

Chris raised his eyebrows at that revelation, “Fiancé? I… I don’t see a ring.”

“That’s because there isn’t one,” your smile widened as you pulled the chain around your neck and revealed a locket. It was an intricately carved sunflower locket, with small, delicate curls nestled inside the petals. 

Chris glanced at it with disdain. It looked hand-made, cheap, “Is that… is it made from clay?”

“Yes Mr Evans,” you beamed at the locket, admiring it with love and pride, “My fiancé is a potter and he made this himself. It took him over 6 hours just to carve all the petals. But he still made it because he knows how much I love sunflowers.”

“So he’s too poor to give you an appropriate ring?” Chris snapped at you. 

Offended, you looked at him in shock and anger as he continued. “You deserve someone who can afford to give you an expensive engagement ring. Not some cheap craft project.”

You grit your teeth at his comment, “Unlike _some_ people, I don’t look at the price of the gifts, I look at their value. While this,” you held the locket in front of his eyes, “is worthless for you, it is priceless for me.”

You placed the locket back inside your shirt and walked away. Chris stood rooted at the spot, biting his cheek hollow. He hadn’t meant to drive you away. He had just wanted you to see him as a prospective partner. 

As he turned towards his trailer, an idea popped into his head.

🔥

Next Friday saw you and your fiancé walk into the bowling alley. The production house had organised a “Bring Your Partner to Work Day” and you both were excited to step out of your routine lives. 

A few people on the set recognised your fiancé Aiden from his YouTube channel. Kenneth, an Assistant Set Designer, drooled over him, “Maaahhnnn! I love your pottery videos! They are so calming dude. How do you make them so relaxing?”

The ever shy and soft-spoken Aiden gushed at the compliment, turning a shade of red which you always found adorable. Aiden was almost the same height as you, with a lean figure and a kind, freckled face. Your friends always told you that Aiden’s looks were nothing to brag about, but you disagreed. Because for you, this man was the most handsomest, cutest and sexiest person in the world. 

And you knew he felt the same way about you. That’s why, even after being together for almost 5 years now, you two still looked at each other with heart eyes.

As the party progressed, you made sure to avoid Chris, and so far, you were successful. That was until he softly said your name. 

With dread in your stomach, you and Aiden turned around to face the man. Aiden knew of your previous encounter with Chris, and tried to square his shoulders as much as possible, but Chris’ towering physique and personality literally made it impossible for Aiden to appear tough.

You gave Chris a curt nod and received a sweet smile in response. 

“I believe I owe you an apology,” he confessed, “I am sorry. My behavior that day was inexcusable.” He paused for reaction, but looking at your hesitant faces, he continued, “It was quite a hectic day on the set and I guess I took it all out on you,” he looked towards you, “You know I am capricious by nature. It takes me some time to become gregarious. But,” he raised his hands in the air, “I repeat, the way I acted was inexcusable. I am sorry.”

He extended his arm towards Aiden, “You are a porter I believe.”

“Potter, sir,” Aiden corrected while shaking his hand and introducing himself.

You bit your tongue, knowing that Chris was mocking you with his false apology. 

He invited Megan to join the conversation, “Megan loves handmade ceramics. Maybe she would be interested in your work.”

Introductions were made again, and as the conversation pursued, it arrived at the topic of your marriage.

“Have you guys decided on a date yet?” asked Megan as Chris looked at you. 

“We are planning to get married as soon as the shooting ends for DJ,” you smiled.

“Oh really? Wow that's… unusual,” Megan tried her best to hide her surprise.

“We don’t know exactly when will the shooting end,” Chris said with a frown on his face.

“That’s not an issue Mr Evans. We are actually planning to get married at the courthouse,” revealed Aiden.

“You know if money is an issue then we would be more than happy to help you guys out,” Chris offered in a sincere tone. 

“Oh no no Mr Evans. Money isn’t an issue,” you clarified, “We have decided to donate the money we had intended to spend on the wedding.”

“But thank you so much for the generous offer, we really appreciate it,” Aiden added with a sincere smile.

“You know a lot of couples are doing that nowadays. It’s a trend I believe,” Megan commented, “Where are you going to make the donation?”

“The local orphanage where I grew up. We both love kids and, it just seemed to be the perfect choice,” Aiden beamed at you. 

You mirrored his expression while Chris scowled. “I think everybody should get the wedding of their dreams, and you” he stated, pointing towards you, “deserve much more than a courthouse wedding. Don’t you want to get married in a beautiful church? Walk down the aisle in a gorgeous white gown? And get married to a man who can actually fulfill your wishes and desires?”

Squaring your shoulders, you looked at Chris dead in the eye, “I am marrying the man of my dreams Mr Evans. The wedding ceremony doesn’t matter to me. What does matter is the beautiful life we will begin together. Now if you will excuse us,” you linked your arm with Aiden’s, “we need to leave.”

Chris watched you leave as Megan tried to distract him with something else. Tonight did not go the way he had anticipated.

He left the party shortly after you, directly heading for his home. Standing under the cold shower, he tried to reason with himself. He was acting out of character. There was no reason for his behavior. You had made it ample clear that you loved your fiancé and that nobody in the world could sway you.

Then why was he so hell-bent on claiming you as his?

_Because she’s perfect for you_ , a voice answered him. 

_Yeah, but she belongs to someone else_ , he argued.

_So what?_ , the voice urged, _Fight for her. You saw her wimp of a fiancé. You can break him into two pieces without breaking a sweat. She is made for you. Just you, and nobody else._

_“I… Just… No,”_ Chris stammered loudly as he shook his head, trying to get rid of the voice in his mind.

He tried to meditate, but it didn’t work. Dodger too, was unable to distract him. Even his books on self-help and mental health were of no use.

As a last resort, he opened his laptop, but his fingers halted at the search bar, the cursor blinking back at him.

He was too tempted to search for you again. The last time he had Googled you, he had been satisfied with the results. You often volunteered with a few NGOs, coordinated multiple donation drives, visited orphanages and taught underprivileged children. His heart had melted at a particular photograph- you were holding an 8-month-old girl in your arms, while looking over a painting drawn by a 4-year-old boy as the child looked up at you with a toothy smile. 

It reminded him of everything he wanted to have, but still couldn’t. 

He closed his eyes and started kneading his forehead with his palms. Everybody he knew always only had the best things about him. Right from Scarlett to Mark to Olivia to every fucking person he had ever worked with, everybody said he deserved to have a loving wife, a stable family. 

And yet, here he was, on a Friday night, home alone with a beer bottle, on the verge of anxiety. 

Was it just anxiety though?

_Who the fuck is Aiden and why does he deserve to be with her?_ the voice in his head was back.

_They love each other, they want to get married_ , Chris reasoned.

_He doesn’t hold a candle next to you_ , the voice persisted, _People love money more than they love others. She will come to you. But you need to let her know you are available. You need to take her to-_

“No,” Chris interrupted the voice loudly, “No. This is unhealthy. No.”

Reaching for his phone, he searched for his therapist’s number, when the voice chuckled, _You really think a shrink is going to help you with this? Eh? They are only going to ask you to fuck another pussy, or read more books. And I will be damned before you touch another book about trees_. 

Chris shook his head again, but in vain. Unable to find the number in his contacts, he turned to Google for the second time that night and started searching for therapists in his area. The voice tut-ted, _Yeah, as if the psycho doctor is going to shut their trap about Chris Evans crying over a girl_.

Chris almost crushed his bottle in frustration. He couldn’t let the voice take over. Not now. Not after working his ass off to get where wanted in his career. Taking a deep breath, he looked at the screen again and came across the headline- “Why Do People Write Fanfiction?” The word fanfiction seemed vaguely familiar to him. He was going to ignore the article and scroll downwards, but the brief underneath the headline made him stop- … _mostly, people write fanfiction to stay in touch with the characters they love,“ says leading Psychologist Andrea Williams._

Intrigued, he opened the article and started reading. Then he opened another, and another and by the time he was done, he had read 6-7 articles on the concept of fanfiction and what it entailed.

Sighing, he opened a new word document. He was reluctant to type a letter, let alone a whole fictional story. He had tried everything and yet, you chose to occupy a rent-free space in his mind. 

Now all he needed was a reference.

He minimised the document, and opened a new tab on his browser. His hesitant fingers typed the words - Chris Evans Fanfiction - into the search bar, and he instantly winced.

Millions of search results were displayed before him, and as he read the descriptions of each one of them, he realised that 99% of these stories were porn. There was no sugar-coating it. On the 5th page of the search results, he luckily found a story sans the erotica. It was a cute one-shot about him going on a first date with the reader. He read it with squinted eyes, afraid that a sex scene might jump out of the blue, but luckily, nothing of the sort happened. 

Chris liked reading it. It was an innocent story filled with romance. 

But the only problem? It was written from the reader’s point of view. He checked a few others, and realised they were all written from the women’s perspective, not his.

He sat back in his chair, turning his head such that he was looking at the ceiling, contemplating his options. 

_You want her_ , the voice whispered.

Reluctantly, he typed the first word that came to his mind. Your name. 

Chris rested his chin on his palm, wondering where to start. If this were fiction, would tonight have gone different? Would you have visited his house for karaoke that night? 

Tapping his fingers on the desk, he bit his tongue in thought. Thinking it was better to start at the beginning, he started typing from his POV-

> ~~The first time I saw her I thought she was pretty. I saw her during meetings and the shooting. Then one day I saw her giving food to a homeless man~~ -

Deleting his words, Chris shook his head. This was insane! Right? You were a real human being and it was unethical of him to write this! He needed to learn to handle his feelings. 

_If you don’t have the balls to fight for her, then be with her in the stories you write. Grow a spine Evans_ , whispered the insulting voice.

Hesitating, he tried to write another paragraph, which ended up getting deleted. 

_Try again_ , the voice coaxed him. _Pour your heart into this. Write better_. 

Taking a sip of the beer, Chris started typing again-

> It was lunchtime when I saw her arranging some equipment on the table. Her back was facing me as I carefully approached her, afraid to startle her. I breathed in her scent, light, floral and fresh, before whispering her name.

> She turned around, a bit surprised to see me, but she smiled nevertheless. Oh gosh her smile. I had seen her smile a few times on the set, but in person, it took my breath away. 

> "Hi,” I managed to greet her shyly. She matched my response.

> “I was wondering if you would like to sing karaoke with me? There’s a karaoke party tonight at my house if you would like to come,” I asked her hopefully.

> Her expression turned remorseful as she apologised, “I cannot come Mr Evans. My fiancé won’t let me.”

> Imagine my surprise when I found out about her fiancé. “I didn’t know about your fiancé. Why won’t he let you come?” I asked her, concerned as she started sniffing a bit.

> “He's… he’s very strict Mr Evans. He doesn’t like it when I go out with my fri-friends or co-workers,” she shared between her light sobs.

> My heart broke into pieces on hearing her confession. I had often noticed her taciturn behaviour on the set, but I had no idea about the reason behind it.

> I raised my hands to cup her face. I was itching to wipe her tears with my lips, but instead, I used my thumbs. 

> “I want to help you. Please let me,” I requested.

> “Nobody can help me Mr Evans. I am stuck with a monster.” She pulled a chain from underneath her shirt and I got a glimpse at the marks on her neck. “Aiden gave me this chain and locket instead of an engagement ring. He said it will be better than a ring. And now he-” she started sobbing harder. I pulled her into my chest, running my right hand through her hair as my left hand soothed her back.

> “And now he uses it as a leash,” my angel whispered, horrified, “he says I do not deserve a ring.”

> I hugged her tighter and thankfully, she buried her face in my chest, “You are no longer stuck with him. Are you listening to me?” I bent my face to bring my lips near her ears, “I will make sure that you are free of him.”

> She shook her head, reluctantly pulling away from me, “No Mr Evans. I cannot-”

> “Yes you can,” I interrupted her. “You are going to come to my house for karaoke tonight. Message Aiden right now, and tell him that I will be dropping you home. Okay?”

> After some coaxing, she agreed. I held her close as she typed out the message, her hands shaking around her mobile phone. Finally she clicked on the SEND button.

> I brushed a kiss on her forehead, “Wait for me in the back alley after the shoot, okay? I will pick you up from there.”

> She nodded gratefully in response.

> I couldn’t wait for the shoot to be over that day. In my eagerness, I even messed up a few takes, mumbling over my lines like an idiot. But eventually, I got through the day. 

> I was excited when I picked her up after the shoot. I could see she was nervous and maybe a little bit scared, but she still entered my car anyway. So I made small talk with her and tried to put her mind at ease.

> Finally, when we reached my house, she was in awe. 

> “This is the most beautiful house I have ever seen Mr Evans,” she gasped as I led her inside, “I don’t think I have ever seen anything like it before!”

> I chuckled, “I am happy you like it. It… it just feels empty sometimes, you know? I find loneliness ubiquitous in this house.”

> You looked at her puzzled expression and smiled. “Ubi-what was that word Mr Evans?" 

> "Ubiquitous,” I replied, “it means something that is present and is found everywhere.”

> “Ahh okay,” she nodded, “thank you for teaching me.”

> “I will accept your gratitude only on one condition.”

> She tilted her head ever so slightly, “And what would that be Mr Evans?”

> I smiled as I slightly bent down and held her hand, “You need to start calling me Christopher.”

> Visibly flustered, my angel looked down at her feet. “I-I can’t Mr Evans,” she said in a low voice.

> “Why can’t you?”

> “I respect you too much sir,” she confessed.

> “Hey,” I gently nudged her forehead with mine, “I want you to say my name. Please?" 

> I stared into her eyes as she met mine. God.

> There was something about her eyes that was absolutely riveting. The depth of her eyes pulled me in towards her as I read the plethora of emotions hidden within them. Her gaze searched my face for malice, deceit, but only found love and trust in return.

> I slowly cupped her face as her breath hitched in her chest. I could feel my own heart race. Bringing my face as close as I could to hers, I whispered, the distance between our lips fast closing, "Please.”

> She parted her lips ever so slightly. I felt her warm breath on mine as she obliged, “Christopher.”

> I closed my eyes as I heard the most melodious symphony, my name draped in her sweet voice.

> I dipped my head to kiss her, feel the shape of her lips, but she stepped back.

> “I-I am st-still engaged Chris-Christopher,” she stammered.

> I straightened myself, my hands no longer cupping her face, “I understand. I am sorry. Would you like-”

> Before I could finish, a car honked outside. While I was curious at the intrusion, her eyes widened with fear. 

> “That’s him,” she gasped, “Aiden is here. He found me.”

> “How is that possible?”

> “He has a location app installed on my phone through which he tracks my location,” she revealed, visibly shaking at the thought of greeting her fiancé.

> “Stay here. You will be safe inside. Let me handle him,” I said, squeezing her shoulders.

> I walked out of the house and towards the car. The vehicle didn’t look in good shape, it’s owner even more so.

> Aiden manually rolled down his window and spat on the ground. Fumes of cheep alcohol and stale cigarette smoke escaped through the window. “Where is she?” he hollered.

> “That’s not your concern anymore. She’s breaking up with you,” I crossed my arms and stood facing him. “If you know what’s good for you, you will leave her alone and stay out of her life.”

> Aiden exited the car at that threat, the door of the vehicle rattled as he opened it. “She said that?” he scoffed, “Color me surprised, I thought the little mouse had no fight left in her. Bring her out here. I want to hear,” he wriggled a finger at me, “whatever the fuck you are saying from her own fucking mouth.”

> “Not going to happen Aiden. You followed her here against her own wishes. Now scoot off before I call the cops,” I warned.

> “You think I will be scared of some Hollywood prick who shits diamonds?” he sneered. 

> “No. But you should be scared of the law. You are currently harassing the owner of this private property, not to mention you have clearly abused your girlfriend mentally, emotionally and physically. So be sensible,” I took a step towards him, “and fuck off.”

> “STOP,” she shouted as she trusted towards us. She stood in front of me, as if to guard me from her monster of a fiancé, “Please don’t hurt him. I will come with you. Just let him be,” she pleaded with him as he smirked. 

> Before he could react, I pulled her behind me, making sure my body was shielding her from Aiden.

> “She’s a gold-digging bitch. You stay away from her,” he pointed at me as he tried to reach her. 

> I pushed him away once and kept my hand on his weak, thin torso. Turning my head, I asked her for the last time, “Are you sure you want to go with him? I can save you. I will protect you, provide for you and keep you happy!” I urged her.

> She looked at me with hope and helplessness. Slowly, she glanced at Aiden who looked like he was ready to commit murder. Sobbing uncontrollably, she removed the chain with the sunflower locket and threw it at his feet. 

> “Leave me alone,” she managed to mumble at him.

> Furious, Aiden growled and tried to pounce at her. Fortunately, I intervened on time and punched his sorry excuse of a face into the ground. 

> She gasped as Aiden fell with a thud. Embarrassed, he slowly got up and dusted himself, muttering under his breath as he sat inside his wreck of a car. 

> “Don’t bother coming back to gather your stuff! I am burning it all tonight you cock-sucking bitch!” and with that outburst, Aiden was finally gone.

> She was sobbing and shaking uncontrollably at what had just transpired. I wrapped her in my arms to let her know she was safe. Within moments, I felt her ease into my body. 

> I closed my eyes and smiled, my nose buried into her hair. My angel was safe. My angel was mine.

Chris blinked his eyes as he re-read his story. He already felt a whole lot lighter, his anxiety at ease, and mind exhausted. Clicking on SAVE, he finished the last of his beer and went to sleep, hoping that this was the end to his problems. Little did he know about the horrors that awaited him, behind the door he had just opened by writing that fictional story.

__–__–__–__–__–__–__–__–__–__–__–__–__


End file.
